


Nantaimori

by ChillieBean



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Food Play, M/M, Rough Sex, Scion Hanzo Shimada, Sex Toys, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2020-03-10 03:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18930727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillieBean/pseuds/ChillieBean
Summary: It had been months in the making, and it was supposed to be a straightforward night: Be Hanzo Shimada's personal waiter, gather intel on a potential partnership with a neighbouring clan, get out without making any waves.Jesse's plans come to a crashing halt when he is asked instead to be the nantaimori—to lie naked for the duration of the meeting while Hanzo eats sushi off him.





	1. Change in Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Vulp who gave me the spark for this story <3\. I've been wanting to write a Blackwatch/Scion pwp for a while now, I just needed a story to make it happen.

Jesse’s stomach churns and he closes his eyes, going over the brief for this mission in his mind.

The target is one Shimada Hanzo, eldest son of Sojiro and heir to the Shimada Clan. Sojiro’s health has been on a steady decline and Hanzo is stepping up as leader in his stead. A permanent move, if the reports of Shimada senior’s terminal diagnosis is true.

Hanzo is conducting his first business meeting as acting-leader, and reports suggest it's for a partnership with the neighbouring Takeda clan. The two clans have been on fairly good terms for centuries, and despite respecting each other's territory, they mostly keep to themselves.

Separate, the two clans are innocuous enough, as far as yakuza go. But it’s this partnership that has got Overwatch worried. _If_ successful, they’d be an unstoppable force in Japan. The Shimada Clan has been on Overwatch’s radar for the last two years given their illegal arms and narcotics dealings, and the Takeda Clan for their high-profile supporters and political sway.

So, information straight from the horse’s mouth is vital.

Jesse opens his eyes, smoothing his hands down his thighs. He's in full waiter uniform, something which has almost been a second skin for all the hours he's put into this cover. It's taken months to get to this moment, working his way up through this Shimada owned restaurant from casual server to waiting for Shimada himself.

While waiting gigs aren't new—there have been many an opportunity to go undercover as a member of the wait staff in the few of years he's been with Blackwatch—this one has been the most difficult. Jesse is now fluent in Japanese. His wait skills are so on point it would impress the finest Parisian chef. He was told, when he took the job all those months ago, that he must not smoke while in uniform, and for the times he is personally waiting for Shimada and his guests, he must not smoke for at least twelve hours before serving to ensure there is no residual smell on his hair and skin.

His fingers twitch reflexively. God, he'd kill for a smoke right now. This moment has been months in the waiting, and his anxiety is through the roof. He chews a little harder on the nicotine gum, but it's just not cutting it; not scratching that incessant itch, not calming his frayed nerves.

He sighs, long and loud. It'll all be worth it if this mission pays off and they get the intel they need to stop the partnership before it happens.  

The door to the staff lounge bursts open, and Jesse settles on a man, wide-eyed and flustered, approaching him. He has a bag hanging off one elbow, a tablet in his other hand, and he looks like he’s running on next to no sleep. If Jesse had to guess, he would be one of Shimada’s numerous assistants.

Behind him, the head waiter for the restaurant steps into view. Jesse cannot get a read on her, and a part of him silently bids his life farewell, because surely his cover is blown and he’s about to be taken away, executed, and his body dumped in some ditch somewhere.

“American?” the assistant asks.

Jesse makes sure to not outwardly react to the strange statement. They wouldn’t ask this if they were just going to haul him away, he supposes. “Yes,” he answers, standing.

“Strip.”

Scoffing, Jesse looks between the two. They want him to _strip_? He waits for the punchline, and after a long, tense moment, he wonders if he actually misheard. “Excuse me?” he prompts.

“Strip, please,” the assistant replies, smiling thinly. “Down to your underwear.”

Well, he definitely heard it right. _If_ he has been discovered and this is a strip search, then he's thankful as all fuck that he's not wearing a wire.

Still, he's not about to drop his kit in front of these two without an explanation.

“Listen," Jesse says, holding his hands up to placate the tense air, "I'm not removing a single item of clothing until you tell me what this is about.”

The assistant tsks, rolling his eyes. “The nantaimori has had to cancel suddenly and we need a replacement,” he states.

Taking a breath and holding it, Jesse looks between the two of them for some clue that this is a joke. When he is met with more silence, adrenaline floods his system—are they _really_ asking him to lie down _naked_ in front of Shimada while he _eats_ off him? “I—”

“Shimada-san has a specific _taste_ ,” the assistant says, hushed like it's a secret he would be killed for uttering. “You are the _only_ person present in this building who can fill the role.”

Jesse, for whatever damned reason, considers the offer. He doesn't care about getting down to his birthday suit in front of strangers—he’s got a killer body and he knows it. From a mission standpoint, being a literal plate of sushi would mean he would have ears in the room at all times. Bugs are great—and the dining room is littered with them—but if Shimada runs a jammer they don’t know about, then they’re useless.

The fact that Shimada prefers to eat sushi off Americans is a strange, kinky bit of information Jesse's sure won't serve any purpose, but he tucks that away in any case.

Jesse glances at the head waiter, and she nods, giving encouragement Jesse doesn’t need. It seems he's decided.

“All right,” Jesse says. Taking a somewhat shaky breath, he moves to undo his tie first, then his shirt, draping them on the back of the chair he was sitting on. His shoes are next, then pants, he drops them to the chair and draws his shoulders back, standing in his socks and underwear in front of a man he just met and a woman he has befriended.

He can't call this job boring at the very least.

The assistant hums thoughtfully, giving Jesse a good, long look down. Time slows to a literal crawl as he watches both sets of eyes rake up and down his body, but he doesn't shrink down or try to cover himself up—if this is some sort of quick audition, he needs to show off his confidence with his body, because he won’t be able to cover up in front of Shimada.  

“You will do,” the assistant says, meeting Jesse’s eyes finally.

“Okay,” Jesse replies, trying to suppress his smile. Good to know Shimada will appreciate his body. “What’s involved?”

The man hands him a bottle of shower gel and a loofah. “You will need to wash from head to toe. Thoroughly.”

“Okay.”

Jesse is then handed a tub of foundation. “For your tattoo," the assistant says, gesturing to his left arm with the flick of his head. "Cover it up. Shimada-san does not like imperfections.”

Jesse huffs a little laugh, looking at the foundation which is a perfect match for his skin tone. He wouldn’t consider his tattoo an _imperfection_ , but understands why. Ultimately, it’s probably a good thing—it removes a glaringly obvious identifying feature from him.

The assistant holds out a tissue, and Jesse eyes it suspiciously before meeting the assistant's gaze. "Your gum."

"Oh." Jesse takes the tissue, spits out the gum and scrunches it up, looking back at the assistant who is now holding out a toothbrush and toothpaste.

"Ensure you brush thoroughly."

Now,  _this_ is getting ridiculous. "Why?"

The assistant has a little chuckle to himself. Clearly, it's some sort of in-joke, and it sets Jesse on edge. But as quickly as it appears, it disappears, and the assistant puts on a neutral face again. He extends his hands further, and Jesse takes the items. “Have you done anything like this before?”

“Can’t say I have,” Jesse murmurs, eyeing the toothbrush in its packaging.

“You must lie as still as possible for the duration of the evening as to not ruin the illusion. Do not make eye contact with Shimada-san, do not touch him. Shimada-san prefers to eat directly off the server, so the food that will be placed down will be cold—” The assistant frowns. “I assume you have no allergies?”

“Can’t say I do.”

“Good,” the assistant says, breathing a sigh of relief. “You will want to wash in lukewarm water, rinse in cold. It will make placing the food easier for you.”

Jesse nods, processing the information. It’s a good thing he’s a trained sniper, so staying still and focused will be no issue. The cold will be a pain in the ass, but not the worst thing he’ll ever experience. He knows he won’t be in his underwear for this—he might not have _done_ this before, but he’s seen nantaimori and nyotaimori during his stay in Japan. “So how naked do I have to be for this?” he asks in any case.

The assistant blinks at Jesse like he just asked in Spanish. “Completely,” he says after a moment.

When the thought of Shimada picking sushi off his bare cock floats in his mind, Jesse quickly shuts that down. “I’m assuming I’ll be… _covered_?”

The assistant's eyes drop to his crotch, and Jesse takes a breath and holds it. He quickly lets it out in a rush; he's glad he trimmed his pubes a couple of days ago. At least he doesn't have an untamed, wild forest between his legs.

“We can make arrangements for a banana leaf to hide your modesty,” the assistant says after a moment. “But be aware, sushi will be arranged in that area too.”

“Of course it will,” Jesse mutters. Even though the risk to his life for this job has increased tenfold, at this stage, he _can’t_ say no. Ultimately he’ll have to seek permission from Gabe to run this mission without any protection—he can’t exactly _hide_ a knife on his naked body. “And if I say no?”

“Shimada-san has cancelled meetings for less,” the assistant says ominously.

Jesse has to suppress an eye-roll. These damned Shimadas think they own the world. Cancelling a meeting which has been at least a month in the making because Shimada won’t be able to eat sushi off a naked guy is all kinds of entitled.

He doesn't have the time to tell Gabe the change in plans and get approval, if the assistant's impatient huff is anything to go by. He has to agree, here and now. “All right,” Jesse says, looking at the items in his hands. “How long have I got?”

“Ten minutes to wash," the assistant says, opening the bag and holding it out, and Jesse drops the items inside. "It will take time to prepare you.”

Dread pools in Jesse’s stomach. Ten minutes to wash, brush his teeth, and cover his tattoo before being presented naked to Shimada covered in sushi.

At the very least, his night just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

 

* * *

 

It is a strange feeling walking down the hall towards Shimada’s personal dining room in nothing but a robe. Fifteen minutes from now, he was _supposed_ to do this in a waiter’s uniform, carrying in the first of the appetisers.

He managed to get ready in under ten minutes, scrubbing his body like his life depended on it, and saving time by brushing his teeth in the shower. He sent a quick message to Gabe when he was covering his tattoo to let him know the change in plans. Gabe wasn’t sold, but he did approve it nonetheless. The stakes were just too high to pass up.

At the very least, if it comes down to defending himself because his cover is blown, broken glass makes an _excellent_ weapon.

Taking a deep breath, Jesse steps into the large dining area. A round table with three chairs sits in next to the far window with a view of Hanamura’s skyline. The bar resting on the opposite corner is stocked with alcohol and is currently manned, no doubt preparing hot sake for when Shimada himself arrives.

In the centre of the room though, is a long rectangular table with a royal blue cloth sitting atop. Beside that is a trolley with an array of sushi. Jesse's anxiety spikes as the head chef stands from his seat and gives Jesse a hard stare—something he has grown used to in his time working in this restaurant. Jesse's always been intimidated by him, though; he is easily the harshest chef Jesse has had the pleasure of working with.

For Kato-san, perfect is not enough.

“ _You’re_ the nantaimori?” Kato-san asks, scoffing.

Nodding, Jesse approaches Kato-san and bows. “Apologies for being late. I only found out I was doing this ten minutes ago.”

Kato-san looks Jesse up and down critically. “You are clean?”

“I think I took off a layer of skin,” Jesse replies. His skin is still tingling from the coarse loofah. “But yes, clean from top to bottom.”

“Good,” Kato-san says with a nod. He picks up a banana leaf, handing it over. “Arrange this and lie down. We do not have much time.”

Jesse takes the leaf and Kato-san turns around. At the very least he won't have to stand naked in front of the elderly chef.

Taking off the robe and draping it on the back of the chair Kato-san was sitting on, he looks down at his semi. While he was processing the change in his evening as he scrubbed in the shower, the more he thought about being laid out on this table for Shimada to see and admire, the more turned on he got. He wouldn’t consider this work degrading, there is something empowering about being used as a piece of furniture—or maybe Jesse has just unlocked a kink he didn’t know he had—but he was hard, right through his shower.

Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise. He can arrange the leaf with enough room so if he remains turned on he's got space to grow.

He sits on the table and analyses the leaf, turning it in his hands. It's been cut down into a smaller version of itself, just enough for him to tuck himself into it. It'll literally be enough to only cover his nethers, leaving next to nothing to the imagination.

With a sigh, because he is wasting time that Kato-san is surely counting, he arranges the leaf, folding it around his cock and balls and making sure it looks smooth before lying back, then giving it one final look just to be sure. The last thing he wants is Kato-san having to fix his shitty attempt. "Okay" Jesse breathes, staring at the ceiling.

“Relax,” Kato-san says, and Jesse looks at him. “If you remain rigid you will cramp.”

“I take it you’re not new to this?” Jesse asks, relaxing his shoulders. He didn’t even realise they were tense.

“I have been working as Shimada-san’s itamae for thirty years.” He picks up a piece of lobster nigiri between chopsticks and places it on the leaf. “I have presented numerous people for events just like this. Experienced people, new people like yourself.” He looks at Jesse and smiles sympathetically. It’s the first time Jesse’s seen him smile and it looks so strange on his face. “Go to your happy place. Forget that there are other people in the room. Don’t get _too_ happy though.” He chuckles.

“Thanks,” Jesse says, chuckling with him. It helps to ease Jesse's nerves a little, and he relaxes, letting Kato-san work.

“Is he ready?” someone yells from the door leading to the kitchen.

Kato-san rolls his eyes. “You may come in.” He glances at Jesse. “Happy place,” he whispers, picking up a radish flower delicately and placing it down on the leaf beside the nigiri.

Jesse inhales and exhales slowly, focusing on the ceiling as footsteps approach. Someone looms over him, and he meets their gaze, seeing a flash of green hair.

Shimada junior.

“Katashi did well finding this one last minute,” Genji says slyly, like he doesn’t remember Jesse serving him just yesterday. Not that he would, he spent all of his time buried in his phone snapping selfies and pictures of his food. “He’s hot.”

Well. Despite trying to be as relaxed as he can, Jesse absolutely preens at the compliment and finds himself fighting his smirk.

“He knows it!” Genji says, grinning from ear to ear. “Look at his face!”

“I am _busy_ ,” Kato-san says, tone clipped. Jesse tries not to flinch when an ice-cold _something_ is placed over his navel.

“Hanzo will be pleased.” Genji traces a finger down Jesse’s arm, a little too seductive for Jesse's taste, but he bites his tongue to stop from moving. He quickly realises he needs to relax, taking a breath and focusing on the ceiling, letting Genji play his game. The sooner he is done with this teasing, the happier Jesse will be. Feeding into him will just make it worse, Jesse just knows it.

Genji's finger continues back up his arm, over his shoulder, his neck. He shudders when he continues up to his jaw, but it doesn't deter Genji, finally stopping at his hairline. There, Genji starts styling his hair.

Jesse lets it happen—not that he has a choice—refusing to acknowledge Genji’s presence as a line of cold sushi is placed up his sternum. Between Genji tugging at individual strands of his hair and the freezing sushi, finding his happy place is impossible.

Genji tucks a small, white flower on Jesse's ear when he is done, and he enters his vision, grinning. “Hanzo will definitely be _so_ much more pleased with _you_ ,” he says, dragging his fingers through Jesse’s sideburns, “than the _twink_ who was _supposed_ to be here.”

Jesse is silent for a long moment, and Genji stares back, eyebrows raising like he is expecting an answer. “Good to know I’ll have the boss’s approval,” he murmurs.

Genji’s eyes slide closed and he clutches at his chest as he takes a step back. “Kato-san, make this one beautiful.” He enters Jesse’s space again. “I wish I was the one eating sushi off of you,” he says, finger teasing the corner of the leaf. “But no matter." He smirks slyly. "You will get lucky tonight.”

Jesse frowns, but doesn’t ask _what_ that means as Genji walks away. The clicking of a message being typed out on a phone fades into the distance, and Jesse sighs, long and loud.

“You should not have entertained him,” Kato-san says flatly.

“Don’t think he was going to leave if I _didn’t_ say anything,” Jesse replies.

“Probably not. But I have known him all his life. I could have given him a single look and he would have cowered off.”

Jesse cannot help but smile. “Should be careful what you say.”

“I will not be disrespected by a _child_.” Kato-san stands, enters Jesse’s vision and frowns. “This stays between us.”

 _That_ is the Kato-san Jesse knows; his usual fear-inducing self. Jesse nods and stares back at the ceiling when Kato-san steps away.

The rest of the preparation is done in silence. Jesse studies the pristine white ceiling as sushi, sashimi and pickled ginger is placed all over his chest, all the way up to his collarbone. He flinches when, finally, colder-than-freezing maki is placed on his nipples. That earns him quiet grumbled words from Kato-san, and he relaxes again, letting his mind wander, stewing on Genji’s words.

As far as being hit on, that attempt was pretty shit. Not that he expects anything from a twenty-four-year-old who's had everything handed to him on a silver platter.

Genji’s not his type—he's about as far away from Jesse's type as someone _could_ be. But it has been a _long_ time since he had any action, and his body has proven that _this_ is a massive turn on.

When it's all said and done, will he _want_ to say no to a Shimada?

 

* * *

 

There are a mere few things on Jesse’s bucket list. Seeing the world is one; something he’s slowly achieving thanks to Blackwatch. Going to the moon is another. It’s not likely, there’s no reason for Blackwatch to visit the research station, but a man can dream. A few of them are things he didn’t realise he _wanted_ to experience until he did, like walking the pristine beaches of Gibraltar. Or working undercover in places he knows he’ll never get a chance to experience, like his undercover personal trainer gigs.

And then there’s this: lying face up, staring at the ceiling while someone eats sushi off his naked body. Something he probably never would have done under any other circumstance, and despite the intimacy and vulnerability of it, it's something he's glad he's doing.

When Hanzo first entered the room, he stared for a good long while as he did a full yet incredibly slow lap of the table. He didn't touch, didn't comment, didn’t pick a piece of sushi, just looked. Jesse kept his eyes forward the entire time, analysing the ceiling, so he doesn't know Hanzo's true feelings.

Jesse supposes if Hanzo was displeased in any way, he would know about it. He wouldn't still be lying here at the very least.

When Hanzo's guests entered the room, they stayed clear of Jesse. They didn't approach, and Hanzo didn't offer. Jesse should have realised from both the assistant’s and Genji’s earlier comments that him being here was purely for Hanzo, like it's some sort of power move, eating sushi off a naked guy in front of strangers.

And knowing _that_ fact makes doing _this_ even more of a turn on.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, before his thoughts get too carried away of a scenario where he is jerked off on this very table, Jesse pulls himself back into the conversation. He took the moment to let his mind wander when they started talking about the looming monsoon season, and now, hinting at the state of the police and how little power they _actually_ have, he waits for something juicy.

Laughter erupts from the table, and Jesse hears footsteps approach. He keeps his breathing calm and level, ensures his eyes remain forward, and when he sees the blue ribbing on the waistcoat matching Hanzo's in his peripheral vision, he keeps as still as possible.

Hanzo looks down for a few moments, Jesse can't exactly see _where_ Hanzo is looking, what his face might be revealing. His stomach is doing flips, considering this is Hanzo's first visit since he entered the room, and he takes a slow, steady breath.

Jesse doesn't flinch when Hanzo lifts off a piece of sushi from his shoulder, and he absolutely doesn't respond in any way when Hanzo gives a little hum as he chews. It was equal parts satisfaction and arousal, Jesse's heard _that_ hum many times before, and it goes straight to his dick.

Hanzo plucks another piece, all but moans, as soft as it was, and Jesse is _certain_ it was intentional. He doesn't get the opportunity to think more about it, Hanzo walks away, and carries on the conversation like he hadn't even stepped away.

And that's how the next few visits go—Hanzo approaches between conversation, wordlessly plucks a piece of sushi, hums in approval, and leaves. Hanzo never stands in his peripheral vision though, so Jesse cannot tell if the humming genuine or just for show. All he knows about Hanzo being in this room is that he is wearing a suit with blue trimming which matches the blue sheet Jesse’s lying on.

It’s possessive, Jesse realises now.

There is also a method to Hanzo’s madness, slowly picking off the sushi on the outside and working his way in. He hasn’t touched the nigiri on his cock, nor the maki over his nipples. Not yet, anyway.

When Hanzo approaches for the fifth time, Jesse's pretty much got this down pat. His nerves from earlier are nowhere to be seen, he's managed to stop his semi from growing, despite Hanzo's increasingly orgasmic-sounding hums.

Hanzo stands over him, like previous, and stares. This time though, as he plucks off a piece of sushi right in the centre of his torso, the chopsticks gently graze against his skin. Jesse almost feels like the wind is knocked out of him, goosebumps roll down his body, and he hears a little huffed laugh from Hanzo.

"Did you like that?" Hanzo asks, barely audible over the conversation of the other two.

Jesse's heart pounds in his chest. What does he do here? Does he keep his eyes forward? Does he answer?

"I will do it again, if you would like."

With a stuttered exhale, Jesse nods. He can't help it, really—he does it without thinking.

A pulse of pleasure strikes Jesse's core when Hanzo grazes the chopsticks against the top of his left pectoral before plucking another piece, a little more forceful than the first time. Jesse makes sure though that he doesn't vocalise, to maintain some shred of composure, biting his tongue to keep from doing just that.

Hanzo hums again. "I think I will indulge tonight," he murmurs, placing the piece in his mouth. He chews, swallows, and stands closer to the table. It takes all of Jesse's willpower not to flinch when Hanzo's fingers brush against his. "If you will let me."

"Yes," Jesse breathes, making eye contact with Hanzo. He sees Hanzo's eyes widen, and Jesse realises his mistake, quickly looking forward again. Hopefully, this hasn't cost him the job.

Hanzo doesn't say anything in response, and after a moment he steps away and walks back to the dining table.

The conversation shifts to questions about Sojiro’s health quickly, and Jesse breathes out, long and slow, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts. He's hard, harder than he has any right to be given that brief interaction, and he glances down at himself to make sure his erection isn't obvious. Thankfully it isn't, he’s sure it’s not poking out the end of the leaf at the very least—because _that_ would be an embarrassment—but he can feel his cock, resting heavy against his thigh.  

But before he’s fully processed the interaction, Hanzo is back, hovering over him and plucking another piece of sushi off him. A part of him is saddened that Hanzo didn't indulge in scraping the chopsticks against his skin. Perhaps this is punishment for speaking out of turn.

"Do you know how hard it is to concentrate with you lying here, a meal ready to be consumed?"

Jesse meets Hanzo's gaze, and Hanzo smirks slyly.

"I have been unable to keep my eyes off you the entire night."

There is a sultriness to Hanzo's tone despite being flat and hushed, and it goes straight to Jesse's dick. Jesse licks his too dry lips, trying to find the right words to say that'll get him laid tonight.

"When I am done here, I am going to absolutely wreck you." Hanzo looks down Jesse's body, and Jesse's sure his eyes are on his cock. "If that piece drops, I will have to punish you," he says. He steps away, takes one last look at Jesse before turning his back on him.

 _Fuck_ , Jesse mouths, exhaling. If he gets any harder he'll tent the damn leaf and drop the sushi, and Hanzo will punish him.

Then he has an alarming thought: what if Hanzo meant punish in the literal sense, not in a sexual context? _That_ is enough for him to come to his senses and think of something truly awful to kill his boner.

The time he and Ashe found mountain lion roadkill pops in his mind first. He picked up a stick to poke at it, as some sort of macho display by fourteen-year-old him who should have known better. When he did, the stick poked through the skin, making the worst squelch Jesse's ever heard.

That noise _and_ resulting smell still haunt his nightmares.

When Jesse comes back to his senses, he is greeted with awkward, nervous laughter. Adrenaline floods his system; trust him to have missed whatever was said.

A small, niggling part of him wonders if it was intentional on Hanzo's part to distract the everloving fuck out of him so he would _miss_ whatever just happened.

And _that_ is a terrifying thought because that would mean that Hanzo _knows_ he is working undercover.

"It was just a joke," one of the two guests says, snapping Jesse out of his spiralling thoughts. "No offence intended."

"My father went to great lengths to rid ourselves of the _abhorrent_ sex slave industry," Hanzo growls, "and I do not intend to start it up again." 

"Of course," the other guest says with a small chuckle. "As Hikaru said, we mean no offence. But it is something _we_ will not stop."

Jesse has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping. Of _course_ the Takeda Clan has a stake in the sex slave industry. It might make Jesse want to do nothing but smash their teeth in right here right now, but it is information they didn't previously have on the clan, and further evidence he can deliver for Overwatch’s case to bring them down.

And that'll be sweet, sweet justice.

“If you will excuse us,” the second guest continues, and Jesse keeps his eyes forward as he hears movement. Two sets of footsteps exit the room, the door closes behind them.

Then Hanzo approaches.

Jesse doesn’t acknowledge him, just continues staring at the ceiling. This time, though, Hanzo doesn’t pick sushi, he just stands there. After what feels like forever, Hanzo moves, and Jesse feels the soft graze of chopsticks over his right pectoral. He has to bite his lip to keep from groaning in absolute pleasure.

The maki is plucked off, and Hanzo hums. This one is louder, carrying more emotion, and a shitton more orgasmic than previous. Almost immediately, Jesse feels the chopsticks over his exposed nipple, gently swirling, and a shiver surges down his spine. He can feel the rise of goosebumps again when Hanzo drags the chopsticks across his chest, circling the maki sitting on his other nipple.

“I was not aware that you looked like _this_ under your uniform,” Hanzo says, calmly, evenly. “If I had…” he plucks the sushi off, all but moans, and Jesse feels that right in his cock. Hanzo stands over him, and given the room is empty, Jesse gets a good look at him. He knows what Hanzo looks like from his files, but those photos didn’t do his cheekbones justice, they're sharp enough to cut glass. Jesse's eyes move to his strong, defined nose, his hair pulled back tight, his full, plump lips just begging to be kissed.

Maybe Jesse’s desperate, maybe because the seed was planted in his mind earlier, but if Hanzo took him away for a fuck once he was done here, he’d be one hundred per cent down.

Jesse sees Hanzo raise his hand, and slowly he brings it down, right in the middle his chest. Warmth radiates under the contact, and Jesse exhales, stuttered.

Hanzo opens his mouth to say something, then the door opens. He closes his eyes, takes a step back, glancing in his peripheral vision at his guests who talk between themselves, waiting until they are seated before picking another piece of sushi from Jesse’s abdomen. “I am going to fuck your face when I am done here,” he murmurs, absolutely matter-of-fact, looking down at Jesse with dark, piercing eyes. He places the sushi in his mouth and walks away, and Jesse has to swallow the lump in his throat.

His brain all but short-circuits, and he cannot stop the image of Hanzo sitting on his chest, thrusting into his mouth with a hand tangled in his hair. Jesse wonders what Hanzo smells like, what he _tastes_ like, and he can feel his dick throb in response.

It takes an insane amount of willpower to listen to the conversation when he hears the word 'partnership', tuning in and out when Hanzo speaks because _fuck_ , his voice is just so sultry it's nigh impossible _not_ to think about fucking him while he speaks dirty things in his ear.

What he can piece together though—when his filth-addled brain allows it—is this partnership will get Hanzo’s father's blessing, it will be his last act as leader, and once he's gone, they can proceed without an 'archaic' marriage to seal the deal. If there was anything else said, hopefully, the bugs picked it up.

After what feels like an eternity, the guests ask for another moment. This time, they stay seated at the table and Hanzo steps away. Jesse can see him approaching in his peripheral vision and his cock twitches.

He is in  _deep_ right now.

Hanzo tsks. "And to think, you were doing so well," he murmurs, utter disappointment drowning his words, and dread pools in Jesse's stomach. "Are you aware of what just happened?"

"No, sir," Jesse says, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling.

"You almost dropped a piece of sushi," he says, tapping at the leaf with his chopsticks.

Jesse balls his hands into fists as he twitches again. Fuck, at this rate it'll be a miracle if he isn't literally standing at attention. "It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't. I like to save that one for last, it would be a shame if you ruined it."

Jesse gives a small nod of his head, meeting Hanzo's gaze. Hanzo drops his hand, cupping himself, and Jesse can see the bulge in his trousers. Fuck, he wants— _needs_ Hanzo with every single fibre of his being, and he doesn't know how much longer he can wait.

"I have been thinking of all the filthy things I want to do to you." Hanzo looks at the leaf. "Starting with seeing what you have hidden under there."

If Hanzo asked him, right here, right now, to take that leaf off, he would. Jesse wets his too dry lips, his fingers twitch, his whole body aches to reach out and grab Hanzo by the tie, pull him in close and breathe in his smell. To hold him by that perfect top-knot of his, jerk his head back to lick against his throat, to hear him moan and feel the vibration against his lips—

"A toast," one of the others says, and Jesse snaps back into the present.

Giving Hanzo one last look before focusing on the ceiling again, Jesse's breath hitches when Hanzo's hand wraps tightly around his wrist.

"I am undecided if I will fuck you on this table or take you back to my room," Hanzo says, louder than he has any right to. Jesse is absolutely certain that Hanzo’s guests, along with every single person in this establishment, know what was just said. "Think about it, let me know which one you prefer."

Jesse nods, it's all he can muster, and Hanzo smirks, before turning his back and walking away. He stares at that magnificent ass in his tight trousers, and would kill to have him right now, at this very moment.

Hanzo absolutely none too subtly adjusts himself, like he doesn’t have a care in the world that his guests know he’s sporting an erection. Their eyes aren’t on him thankfully, they’re on the barkeeper as he approaches, carrying a tray with warm sake, holding it out as the trio pick up the cups.

They toast, drink, and Jesse cannot tear his eyes away from Hanzo. What he wouldn't give to toss away the leaf and take himself in his hand, admiring Hanzo from afar; his broad shoulders, his narrow waist. The guy _must_ be ripped as _fuck_ under there, and it doesn't matter if they fuck here, on this table, or in Hanzo's room—Jesse wants to see _all_ of him.

After another eternity of exchanged pleasantries, Hanzo's two guests finally leave. Silence fills the room, and Hanzo wordlessly passes Jesse and approaches the bar. He says something hushed to the bartender who bows before locking the exit to the room and leaving through the kitchen.

Jesse watches as Hanzo busies himself behind the bar, not even looking up in Jesse's direction at any time. It's a long stretch of time before Hanzo steps back out, two glasses in his hand.

"Whiskey," Hanzo says, holding a glass out, and Jesse rests his weight on one elbow carefully, making sure not to drop the last nigiri on his navel, nor the one on his dick, reaching out with the other. "Kampai."

Jesse raises his glass, watching as Hanzo takes a sip. He has a dangerous glint in his eye as he pulls the glass away, like a predator sizing up his prey, and it’s all the right kinds of sexy.

Not taking his eyes off Hanzo, Jesse has just a taste of the alcohol, letting it rest on his tongue a moment before swallowing. "Smooth," he breathes, setting the glass down beside him and lying back. It's bad enough he's _sleeping_ on the job, but drinking on the job is something he won't do.

That, and if he doesn't get Hanzo's promised cock in his mouth right this second he's liable to suck on his own fingers just to satisfy the unrelenting urge.

"It is made at a local distillery," Hanzo murmurs, taking another sip before looking at the glass again, analysing the alcohol as he turns it in his hand. "A recipe which has been in my family for generations."

"That so?" Jesse is more than done with this conversation, and wonders if opening his mouth willingly will be too strong a hint. He licks his lips seductively in any case, and relishes in seeing Hanzo's eyes fill with absolute lust.

Hanzo hums as he walks around Jesse slowly, a finger tracing his up his arm, over his chest, then down his other arm. He places his hand on top of Jesse’s and shifts it to his crotch, and Jesse groans at how hard Hanzo is. "Have you made a decision?" Hanzo asks, voice even and steady as Jesse palms him through his trousers.

"Why waste time moving from point a to point b when we can just stay here?" Jesse breathes, meeting Hanzo's gaze.

Hanzo smirks deviously, pulling Jesse's hand away, and Jesse has to suppress a needy groan. "Very well," he says, finishing the last of his whiskey before placing the empty glass by Jesse's feet. "It is dangerous being in here. Someone could walk in."

Jesse huffs a laugh. "I'm sure you told your guys not to disturb you."

"You assume to know how I conduct my business?" Hanzo unbuckles his belt, and Jesse's mouth waters.

"Unless you get off knowing someone's watching," Jesse breathes, biting his lip when Hanzo unbuttons and unzips his trousers. It takes a shitton of restraint to not reach out when Hanzo slides his hand into his underwear. When he pulls out his cock—rock hard, uncut, a good size _and_ perfectly curved—Jesse quivers with anticipation.

Jesse throws any and all tact out of the window, turning his head and opening his mouth as wide as he can when Hanzo side steps to his face. The second Hanzo touches his tongue, Jesse eagerly licks against him. He's rewarded with a soft moan, a hand on his head and fingers weaving through his hair as Hanzo, surprisingly gently, thrusts.

The nigiri on his navel is plucked off, and Hanzo casually eats it like he isn't getting his dick sucked. When Jesse feels movement on his covered cock, his hips buck. He can't see much, not with Hanzo in his mouth, but he does see Hanzo eat that last piece of sushi and is rewarded with a moan and the grip on his hair tightening.

Once Hanzo's done chewing, he reaches over, grabbing Jesse’s abandoned glass. "I trust you did not want any more?" he asks, surprisingly even, but before Jesse can even register the question, Hanzo's taking a sip, eyes locked with Jesse.

Jesse doesn't look away, as much as his eyes are straining from looking at Hanzo from this angle. Hanzo might like it when people look him in the eye, but Jesse likes it even more.

Hanzo pulls the glass away from his mouth slowly, smirking slyly. "I could not stop thinking about fucking you so hard, you would not be able to walk straight."

A jolt of pleasure courses right through Jesse's body, and his dick positively twitches. It catches Hanzo's attention, and he has a chuckle to himself.

"Do you like things rough?" he coos, his fingers teasing the skin covering his hip bones.

Jesse hums affirmatively, because there is nothing much else he can do with Hanzo's thrusting. He thinks about being utterly bent over, knees touching the side of his head. Or maybe classic doggy style, where Hanzo has an iron grip on his hips as he rams in hard and fast.

Fuck, all he wants right now, though, is to get this fucking leaf off him and take himself in his hand, _something_ to alleviate some of the pressure.

"How is this?"

Jesse blinks into now, looking up at Hanzo again. He's grinning, and he loosens his grip on his hair to cup the back of his head, before increasing his speed. Jesse moans, muffled, his hips buck. He places a hand on Hanzo's groin, wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock, focusing on suppressing his gag reflex so he can take Hanzo as deep as he can from this angle.

"I have to say I'm impressed," Hanzo says casually, and Jesse meets his gaze again. He looks so fucking smug with that grin, and Jesse knows exactly what'll get him moaning again.

Shifting his hand around to Hanzo's ass, he brings him in closer, taking Hanzo so deep he feels him at the back of his throat. Hanzo grunts, pushing on Jesse's head with the same force, and Hanzo holds still. Jesse swallows around him once, twice, and on the third time, Hanzo finally moans, revealing the most delicious sound Jesse's ever heard.

Slowly, Hanzo pulls back, and Jesse lets him, hand gripping his hip tight. "Do you like being in control?" Hanzo asks, voice softer, more breathy.

Despite being slower than before, Hanzo hasn't stopped thrusting. Jesse's not about to stop sucking his dick, he hasn't had his fill yet. So with his free hand, he finally pulls the leaf away and tosses it aside, _showing_ Hanzo what he wants.

Hanzo is quick to respond, wrapping his hand around his cock. Jesse cannot help the whole body jolt, nor the muffled moan when Hanzo pulls.

"I am unsure if I want you to come now, or to build you up then stop."

Jesse scowls, and for the first time this entire session he thinks about just stopping and leaving Hanzo here, blue balls and all. Hell _yeah_ , he likes to be in control, especially when that control is taken away from an arrogant shit.

But. The thought of orgasm denial, hell, the thought of a _second_ orgasm is enough to keep him in place.

Hanzo tugs a little faster, matching his thrusting, and Jesse can feel the pressure in his core building. He slides his hand back onto Hanzo's ass and gives it a squeeze, utterly relishing in how firm his glutes are, and pushes him in close again.

Hanzo curses in Japanese, his tugging stops, as does his thrusting. Feeling him at the back of this throat, Jesse swallows around him again, and Hanzo pulls back, all the way until he's completely out of Jesse's mouth.

"Wasn't fuckin' done," Jesse growls, wiping the dribble of spit on his chin with the back of his hand.

"Eager," Hanzo replies. He downs the rest of the alcohol, winces, then dropps the glass to the carpet and sweeps the other one away. In one fluid, graceful movement, he climbs on top of Jesse, straddling his hips, hands on either side of his head. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, and Jesse wraps his hand behind Hanzo’s neck, pulling him down into a searing kiss, rolling his tongue into Hanzo’s mouth.

Hanzo whimpers, a too-soft little thing which is a polar opposite of the smug asshole from literally three seconds ago, like the complete and utter shift in dominance took him by surprise and revealed this vulnerable side to him.

But almost as suddenly as it arrives, it leaves, as Hanzo grinds down on him, taking both their cocks in his hand and squeezing tight. He bites down on Jesse’s lip hard before pulling away, smirking slyly, and Jesse is surprised that he isn’t bleeding.

“I knew you would not take this lying down,” Hanzo murmurs.

“Ain’t one to take _anything_ lying down,” Jesse replies, smirking back. “You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

“I enjoyed it thoroughly.” Hanzo glances down at their cocks, pulling gently. “Not many people dare act out of line in my presence.”

“Good thing I ain’t them.” Jesse brings his hands up to Hanzo’s waistcoat, looking him in the eye as he undoes the first button. Hanzo doesn’t say anything, doesn’t respond in any way, just looks back at Jesse.

Once he is done with that last completely infuriating arrowhead button, he pulls it away, seeing the same arrowheads on his shirt. Sighing deeply, he looks Hanzo in the eye as he undoes his tie, pulling it through his collar in one swift move and dropping it on the floor. Jesse struggles with the first button before deciding that this is taking too much time. He slides his fingers between the buttons—

“Don—”

And rips the shirt open, sending some of the obnoxious buttons flying. He glances up at Hanzo and winks, before looking at his prize, cupping those absolutely plush pecs and running a hand down his rock hard abs.

“You will pay for that shirt.”

“Take it out of my wage,” Jesse says absently, pushing the shirt back on Hanzo’s left side to analyse the tattoo. It’s one thing to see it in grainy surveillance photos taken at the gym he trains at, it’s another to see it in person, to be this close to it to see the intricate detail. Jesse’s tattoo is nowhere near as detailed but still hurt like a bitch. He can’t imagine the time and pain Hanzo went through to have his whole arm _and_ leg done.

He glances down at Hanzo’s left thigh, wondering if he can convince him to go completely naked.

“Are you done with your examination?”

Eyes snapping to meet Hanzo’s, Jesse shrugs playfully. “What? A guy can’t admire?”

Hanzo just raises an unimpressed eyebrow, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small bottle of lube.

Jesse scoffs. “You always come prepared? What if I’d said no?”

Hanzo barks a laugh, opening the bottle and dripping some onto his fingers. “I was told that one, you did not question this role when asked, and two, after what my brother had to say about you, I _had_ to fuck you.”

“And if I was pure?” Jesse cannot help but grin at the outlandish statement. “Saving myself for someone after marriage?”

“Please,” Hanzo says flatly, wrapping his clean hand around Jesse’s calf and lifting his leg roughly. “You cannot tell me that people actually believe that.” Hanzo’s eyes snap to meet Jesse’s as he massages his rim with a finger, and Jesse breathes out, grabbing his cock. “I believe I did not say you could touch yourself.”

Jesse smirks, tugging shallowly. “ _I_ don’t believe we set any rules. If you want me to stop, just say so.”

Raising an eyebrow, Hanzo bats Jesse’s hand away, grabbing him and tugging at the same speed Jesse was. “Tell me,” he breathes, pushing in, absolutely grinning when Jesse grunts. “If I told you to stop, would you?”

“If you’d asked,” Jesse says slowly, grabbing handfuls of the silk sheet he’s lying on when Hanzo curls his finger, trying not to give him the satisfaction of the hip buck he’s holding back, “probably not.”

Hanzo pulls out his finger, before slowly pushing in with a second. “So you like things rough?”

“More or less.”

A devilish smirk spreads on Hanzo’s lips. “I like things rough too.”

Jesse cannot help the moan when Hanzo curls his fingers again, striking hard. He massages the bundle of nerves before quickly thrusting his fingers, grinning like he’s won a damn prize when Jesse grips the table tight and his back arches.

He tries to stave off his orgasm, but after the prolonged state of arousal, it builds quickly, too quickly. Just as Jesse’s there, as he teeters on the edge, Hanzo stops—stops tugging, stops thrusting, and pulls away again, leaving Jesse all kinds of dissatisfied. “You are fuckin’—” he huffs when he makes eye contact with Hanzo and sees that teasing wink. “You’re a prick, anyone ever tell you that?”

“I would not be where I am if I were not a prick,” Hanzo says smugly. He pulls a condom out of his pocket and waves it. “I also like taking risks,” he says, voice low and dangerous.

“Not a surprise,” Jesse breathes, thinking back to his earlier conversation where he was told that Hanzo prefers to eat food directly off the server. He looks at the condom between Hanzo's fingers and sees the question that it is. “I’m clean if you are,” he says, meeting Hanzo's gaze.

Hanzo tosses the condom over his shoulder with a grin, sweeping up the bottle of lube and drizzling his bare cock. “Rough,” he says, pocketing it.

“Fuck, yes,” Jesse breathes when Hanzo lifts his other leg, resting it on his shoulder. His eyes flutter closed when he feels Hanzo massage his hole, and he breathes out slowly when Hanzo pushes in. He hears Hanzo muttering in Japanese again with every single inch, and Jesse holds onto the table tight, relaxing and  _shuddering_ as he is filled up. He might not have been with someone in a while, and while toys fill that void, having the real deal just doesn't compare. He's been so apathetic lately, too focused on the mission he supposes. He really should have just gone out and fucked as often as he could because this feels like _heaven._

He opens his eyes when he hears Hanzo groan, settling on Hanzo as he watches where they’re joined, pushing in that final inch until his hips are pressed to his ass. He holds still, breathing deep, for a good, long moment. “So..." Jesse starts, "you fuck all your nantaimoris?”

Hanzo’s eyes snap to meet Jesse’s, he rests a hand on Jesse's abs and splays his fingers as he drags his hand up to his left pec, squeezing tight. “Only the hot ones.”

Jesse barks a laugh. “Good to know I made the cut.”

“It has been a while since I was with someone—”

Jesse sneers, earning him a scowl from Hanzo.

“Who was as defined as you.”

“Glad you like what you see,” Jesse replies, winking slyly.

Hanzo pulls his hand away and rests both on Jesse’s calves. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Bossman can’t get me to shut up.”

Hanzo hums, pushing Jesse’s legs towards his chest.

“Fuck,” Jesse breathes, watching Hanzo slowly approach. “Keep going.”

“A masochist too?”

“Got some flexibility.” He groans as his thighs begin to protest, but he ignores them, taking himself in his hand. “Can do the splits on a good day.”

Hanzo curses in Japanese again, stops his approach and fucks into him hard and fast. He's in so deep, rubbing against that sweet spot with every thrust, so much so that Jesse almost sees stars.

But it's not enough.

"Keep going," Jesse groans, wrapping a hand around the back of Hanzo's neck and pulling him down. Jesse's knees fall to Hanzo's shoulders as Hanzo braces himself on the table, and every single movement Hanzo makes pushes Jesse closer and closer to the edge. "You wanted to wreck me, so wreck me. I can take it, keep going."

Hanzo moans, pushing down until Jesse's knees touch his shoulders. Jesse can feel the tightened coil in his core, ready to snap. He’s so close, all it'll take is a good few tugs to come, but he keeps his hands on Hanzo, gripping his biceps tight as Hanzo relentlessly pounds into him, as the room fills with skin slapping on skin, moans, groans, and grunts. Jesse doesn't take his eyes off Hanzo, as Hanzo squeezes his eyes shut, as he hangs his head low. 

Jesse moans, sitting on the edge of orgasm. He doesn't act though, doesn't wrap his hand around his dick to finish. Maybe he's a hopeless romantic, but there's something so intimate about coming at the same time as a partner. 

Suddenly, Hanzo lifts his head again, and Jesse can see that Hanzo is there, from the crease on the bridge of his nose that deepens, the guttural groan he gives. Jesse takes himself in his hand pumps once, twice, and he falls, shouting with his orgasm.

Come streaks his chest, he’s sure he’s got some on his chin but he doesn’t fucking care, the lust-filled look on Hanzo’s face as his eyes rake up and down his torso, the string of expletives he _yells_ as he stops thrusting, suddenly take centre stage. Hanzo pulls out, his cock falls hard against the crease of Jesse's leg, and he bucks, muttering in Japanese as he finishes. Jesse closes his eyes and flinches when he feels come against his cheek, and opens them when Hanzo slows to a grind.

Hanzo’s eyes settle on Jesse's face, and with no warning, he leans down and licks not only the come on Jesse's chin but on his cheek too, before kissing him. It catches Jesse by complete surprise, whimpering when Hanzo’s tongue slides against his, and with it the come he just licked up. He holds onto Hanzo tight, kisses him like his life depends on it until he can’t taste them anymore.

He opens his eyes when Hanzo’s teeth graze against his bottom lip, settling on Hanzo. He’s got this blissed-out grin on his face, his hair is messy, his bangs have come free, which is actually kind of hot. “Howdy,” he murmurs, smiling softly as he tucks the loose strands behind his ear.

Hanzo huffs a little laugh as he scoots back, gently lowering Jesse’s aching legs. He climbs off the table, tucking himself in his pants but leaving them undone as he approaches the bar again, pouring himself more whiskey and this time, downing the lot.

With his back starting to protest lying against this hard surface for so long, Jesse looks around in vain for something close by to clean himself with so he can finally get off this fucking table. But literally, the only thing there is is the tablecloth from the dining table or the silk cloth he’s lying on.

“Do it and you will regret it.”

Jesse cannot help but chuckle, dropping the cloth and looking at Hanzo. “Bit dramatic.”

“I have done worse for less.”

“Don’t doubt that for a second,” Jesse replies, knowing full well _just_ how dangerous Hanzo is. “But I’d like to clean up, if it’s all the same to you.”

Hanzo smirks, utterly slyly, bringing his glass to his lips. “And ruin such a filthy, sexy image?”

Grinning, Jesse takes himself in his hand tugging in vain to get hard. “Take a picture,” he says, winking.

Hanzo hums, crossing the room and standing over him. His eyes rake up and down Jesse’s body, as if he _is_ committing him to memory, before looking back at him. “Same time next week?”

“Anything for you, gorgeous," Jesse says with a wink. " _And_ I wouldn’t say no to round two before then.”

Hanzo chuckles, an almost sadistic little thing like he’s caught his prey and is ready to devour him. He gives Jesse one last look down before sweeping down, picking up his tie, turning his back on him and walking away.

“Wait—” Jesse watches, helpless, as Hanzo heads into the kitchen, the door closing behind him. “Thanks,” he mutters, looking down at the come on himself. He grabs the edge of the cloth, but before he can dab himself with it, he’s hit in the face with something white. He pulls it away, revealing his gown from earlier.

“What did I say?” Hanzo barks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jesse says, wiping himself down with one side of it. He sits up slowly, draws his shoulders back and groans. He'll be all kinds of sore in the morning.

Standing on shaky feet slowly, he tests his weight before stepping away from the table once he's convinced his legs aren't going to give way under him. He slides on the robe, ensuring the clean side is touching his skin, and wraps it around himself. His eyes meet Hanzo's, who is still standing at the door, and after a moment of a rather intense staredown, Hanzo huffs.

“Come,” he says, holding the door wider and jerking his head. “I do not like to be kept waiting.”

Jesse positively grins. “Yessir!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it technically snowballing if you've licked come off someone's face then kissed them? :thinking:
> 
> Also, Jesse, honey, the room is bugged, remember? 
> 
> Jesse: Bossman can't get me to shut up.  
> Gabe, exasperated, pressing his hands to his forehead: I've tried. Lord _knows_ I've tried.
> 
> Jesse: Can do the splits on a good day.  
> Gabe: -shakes head, drops headphones, leaves room to have a smoke and listen to ABBA as loud as he can to--once again--completely wipe Jesse's sex noises from his mind-  
> Gabe, several minutes later and on his third repeat of Dancing Queen now that he's sure it'll be stuck in his head for the next millennia: I'm too old for this shit. 
> 
> As always, this is a work of fiction. Please practice safe oral and penetrative sex irl, folks.


	2. Dessert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> This took way longer than I originally wanted, but it's finally here! 
> 
> Have I mentioned that Paul Nakauchi is a blessing? Cause he really fucking is and we as mortals do not deserve him.

Jesse takes a deep, anxious breath. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face. With every step he takes, all he can focus on is the expensive carpet crunching under his feet. It almost sounds like he's walking on gravel it's that  _impossibly_ loud.

Earlier this evening, when Jesse was walking this very same corridor to get to the private dining room dressed in nothing but a robe, all he could think was just how strange it was. Before then, he’d been up and down here several times before, learning the layout of the kitchen and dining room in preparation for his shift with Hanzo. He knows it like the back of his hand.

Despite doing it again right now—just as dressed as his evening started—it’s a shitton more awkward. 

If he were alone, it probably _wouldn't_ feel like a walk of shame. He’s following behind Hanzo—who hasn't bothered to close his shirt _or_ waistcoat—like a lost puppy. Jesse is sure Hanzo looks hot as fuck, bare chest out for all the world to see, and would actually give anything to get a look at him front on. 

But, it would be clear to anyone who was to walk past them that Jesse has fucked the boss. 

The stupidest thing about it is that he didn’t care back in the privacy of the dining room. It's clear from comments made by _several_ of the staff before the lying naked for Hanzo, that they _knew_ this was where Jesse would end up. Tomorrow, he has to look those same people in the eye, and they’ll _know_ that Hanzo fucked him into oblivion. 

Jesse’s not really sure why it’s bothering him all of a sudden. Sleeping around isn’t a new concept to him, even given his recent dry spell. Hell, he and Fio brag about who they fuck while on missions and if she were here right now, she’d give him a massive high five for tapping the man in charge. 

He almost feels exposed. Perhaps it’s the complete obviousness of it, given Hanzo is dressed as he is with his hair out of place when he is usually so pristine and perfect. It’s like a giant neon sign that says, ‘I just got laid.’ 

It’s one thing to be whisked away to someone’s room, bang in private, and leave in the clothes he was wearing with most of no one the wiser. It’s another completely to walk the corridors in a come-soaked robe, following his conquest who hasn’t bothered to make himself look presentable. 

Then there’s also the fact that he’s never slept with someone he’s investigating. He knows better than to fly _that_ close to the sun, and tonight was an exceptional circumstance. But how could he _not_ fuck Hanzo after all the teasing he did? 

Now though, now that _lust_ and _desire_ aren't thrumming through his veins, it’s just left this tense awkwardness in its place. Even _with_ the promise of more sex.

If Hanzo had been anyone else, it would be an entirely different story. Jesse would be hanging off their arm, hell, he'd even have a swagger in his step. But instead of giving himself a mental high five for conquering the unconquerable, all he can think about is all the people who _do_ know about this who are silently judging him right now. 

They stop in front of an elevator, Hanzo pushes the call button and the door opens. Hanzo extends a hand and Jesse steps inside, breathing a sigh of relief when they’re surrounded by four closed walls. They didn’t encounter anyone on their seemingly _endless_ walk down that short corridor, and his dignity remains somewhat intact. 

Hanzo presses his phone against the reader and the elevator starts moving. As it takes them on their journey, Hanzo turns to face him. He doesn’t say anything, just looks Jesse up and down like he’s a damn snack ready to devour. 

Jesse takes that opportunity to leer at Hanzo’s bare chest. _Christ,_ he feels his dick _twitch_ at the sight of him. And his tattered shirt, physical proof of what went down… He knows he should be lucky that Hanzo didn’t _punish_ him for it, but _fuck_ , he’d tear his shirts off him every day to leer at those glorious pecs if he had the chance.

Breathing in deep, Jesse catches a good whiff of Hanzo’s cologne. It’s so _achingly_ strong, calling to him like a siren’s song. All he wants is to pin Hanzo against the wall, slot a thigh between his legs and get drunk off his smell, grinding against him and leaving Hanzo a panting, groaning mess. 

Before he gets the chance to act on that desire, the elevator door opens. Sighing, Jesse looks out, seeing a small alcove with a single locked door awaiting them. 

Hanzo gives Jesse one long, slow look down before exiting the elevator. Jesse follows behind, Hanzo taps his phone to the reader outside the room and the door unlocks. Hanzo swings it open and steps inside, holding it open for Jesse chivalrously. 

With a courteous nod, Jesse steps inside. The room looks about standard for an unlived in hotel room, but his eyes are drawn to the large floor to ceiling windows. The view of Hanamura’s skyline in the dining room was spectacular, but that was nothing compared to _this_. 

Approaching the window, Jesse admires the view. The city sparkles in the night, as if it is putting on this show just for him. His eyes shift to Shimada Castle in the near distance, standing imposing, almost ethereal with the glow of the lights on its grounds. 

Jesse feels hands settle on his shoulders, and he cannot help the grin that blooms on his lips at the sight of that tattooed dragon’s maw peeking from Hanzo's shirt. Hanzo presses his body against Jesse's back, his hands slide down over his chest slowly, hooking on the belt keeping his robe closed.  

A shiver cascades down Jesse’s spine as he feels Hanzo’s exhale caress his ear. He can feel and _see_ himself swelling—his cock is damn near tenting the robe. 

Hanzo makes quick work of untying the belt, and he slips his hands inside, settling on Jesse’s bare abdomen. He holds there for a moment, then, with the finest feather-touch, his fingers ghost back upwards. Jesse feels another puff of air, this time against his neck, as Hanzo cups his pecs. When Hanzo’s thumbs graze against his nipples gently, Jesse hears the barest of grunts from him. 

Jesse cannot help the whimper that passes his lips, and as if spurned by it, Hanzo does it again, this time with more force. Jesse's knees shake, his skin feels like it's on fire, each graze and pinch and light twist from Hanzo leaves him breathless. If he keeps this up, Jesse is sure he could come untouched. 

Much to Jesse's surprising dismay, Hanzo moves away, pulling the robe open. Hanzo steps away, letting it fall to the ground. Jesse stands naked, sporting what he is certain to be the hardest erection he's ever had, in front of a window where all the eyes of Hanamura are on him. 

His dick utterly _jumps_. 

Hanzo presses himself against Jesse again, and his stomach drops at the press of Hanzo’s cock against the cleft of his ass. His breath hitches, he can't help but grind back against Hanzo. 

“Tell me,” Hanzo murmurs, his breath caresses Jesse’s ear as his hands return to his pecs, massaging and kneading. Jesse's cock twitches, _desperate_ for some attention, yet he keeps his hands balled by his side. “Are you too sore for another round of rough sex?”

A ragged exhale passes Jesse’s lips. He can still feel the ache of being bent in half in his back and thighs. It’s not enough to sway him, ultimately, because when it comes to sex, the rougher the better. 

Jesse can only _imagine_ what Hanzo has in store if he’s asking, just how utterly _destroyed_ he's about to be, and it has white-hot heat pooling in his core. 

“I'm not sore at all,” Jesse murmurs. He turns his head, looking at Hanzo from the corner of his eye. “What do you have in mind?”

Hanzo doesn’t reply, just takes a step back. Jesse turns, his gaze is instantly drawn to Hanzo’s hand wrapped around his cock, pulling slowly. When he meets Hanzo’s eyes, Hanzo winks, stepping into another room. 

With one last look at the skyline, Jesse takes himself in his hand and gives a couple daring tugs to anyone who might be watching. His eyes flutter, his breath catches in his throat, the spark of pleasure that ripples through him is already too much to bear. God, he could probably come in as little as three tugs.

He pulls his hand away to stop from losing himself and follows Hanzo into the bedroom. His eyes first settle on the king-size bed, then on Hanzo standing beside it. Hanzo gestures to it with the flick of his head, and with a sly smirk, Jesse climbs on, lying down on his back.

Still half-clothed, still with his cock out, Hanzo climbs on top of Jesse, straddling his waist. Jesse’s hands are instantly drawn to Hanzo’s hips, he rubs little circles onto his skin with his thumbs. 

Hanzo’s got a dangerous little glint in his eye, one that matches his smirk. He takes Jesse’s right wrist, dragging his hand to the top corner of the bed. When Hanzo pulls his tie through his collar in one strong, swift movement—something so simple that he manages to make _overwhelmingly_ sexy—and holds it in front of Jesse, he knows what comes next. 

“A’ight,” Jesse breathes, nodding, and Hanzo ties his wrist to the bedpost. 

“Not too tight?”

Jesse wriggles his wrist, he has some freedom of movement. Hanzo has left some slack, enough that Jesse can wrap his hand around the tie itself. Giving it a good tug, neither knots give way; he won’t be escaping from these bindings, not anytime soon. “All good.”

Hanzo grins, and when he looks at Jesse’s other wrist, Jesse moves it up to the other corner. Without breaking eye contact with him, Hanzo pulls the belt from his pants in a just-as-smooth movement, binding it the same way. 

Jesse bites his lip, his focus is drawn to Hanzo’s cock resting between his pecs. _Fuck_ , if he had his hands, he’d push them together and beg Hanzo to fuck them. 

There is a knock at the door, then, and Hanzo pulls away, looking at Jesse with raised eyebrows. He keeps his eyes on Jesse as he yells, “Enter.”

Jesse hears the scanner beep then the door unlocking. He can't see the hotel room door from the bed but it sounds like something is wheeled into the room. Staring at the threshold to the bedroom, a part of Jesse expects someone else to walk in, and images flash in his mind of being railed by an entire line of people while Hanzo watches. It wouldn't be something he's opposed to, he'd do fucking _anything_ or _anyone_ for Hanzo right now.

Then, he does a mental one-eighty: what if Hanzo has discovered that he’s Blackwatch, and with the aid of whoever has entered the room, they play some sick, twisted torture game, which will end with his untimely death. 

Jesse’s gaze shifts back to Hanzo still sitting on top of him. He has a small smirk on his lips, his fingers trace up and down Jesse’s arms lightly, he even rocks his hips minutely as if he _were_ pec-fucking him. 

 _Fuck_ , it’s so hard to focus. He wants to stay on alert because of the mystery person in the other room. He wants to _beg_ Hanzo to take his pecs in his hands and go ham. But he knows that the moment he opens his mouth he’ll laugh, because right now it is taking all of Jesse’s willpower not to show Hanzo just how ticklish he is. He could be moments away from death, he wants to retain _some_ of his dignity. 

Hanzo’s hands trail back down, over his shoulders and onto his neck. Jesse’s breath hitches, sure Hanzo is ready to wrap his hands around him and squeeze the life out of him. But he doesn’t stop, he continues down onto his chest as he scoots back. 

Jesse is sure he’s never been so relieved and disappointed at the same time in his life. 

Hanzo sits on his hips, his fingers map every scar on Jesse’s torso. His touch is soft, gentle, and absolutely _doesn’t_ seem like the actions of a man about to end the life of his hook up. But if there’s one thing Jesse knows about Hanzo through intelligence reports, it’s that Hanzo gets _immense_ enjoyment out of toying with his prey.

And right now, Jesse is very _much_ Hanzo’s prey.

The door closes softly and Hanzo climbs off him. Jesse’s heart pounds in his chest, he’s ready to thrash and kick if Hanzo so much as approaches again with bloodlust in his eyes. But Hanzo, as cool as a cucumber, stands beside the chair in the corner of the room and undresses like he doesn't have a single care in the world. He meticulously folds every single item—even his ruined shirt—and sets them down in a neat pile. 

As the concealed knife wrapped around his shin is removed and placed on top of the pile, Jesse’s apprehension simmers away. As long as that blade remains as far away from him as possible, Jesse will be happy.  

Considering this might be his last moments on this Earth, Jesse takes Hanzo in, and lord have _mercy_ he is a vision of perfection. Hanzo is a solid wall of muscle, he has the most defined abs and inguinal crease that Jesse has ever seen. And the tattoo enveloping his right leg is _gorgeous_. 

It doesn’t matter that Hanzo’s knife is on the other side of the room. Hell, Hanzo doesn’t _need_ a weapon on him; he could take on anyone in hand to hand combat and come out on top.  

Hanzo glances at him, _teasingly_ wraps his hand around his erection and leaves the room. Jesse cannot help but bite his lip at the sight of that toned ass. But, as silence settles over him, this could be it—Hanzo could return with a gun, a samurai sword, a fucking _machete_ , and Jesse is here, laid out like a fucking Christmas ham ready for carving.

Jesse looks at his bound wrists, pulls as hard as he can against them. He’s tied, stuck, _trapped_ good and proper, something he willingly _consented_ to without giving it a moment’s thought, and now, _now_ he could die in this room, all because he was desperate for another fuck.  

He’s just glad that at the very least, his legs aren’t bound. 

It feels like an eternity when Hanzo finally returns. He’s got a devious smirk on his lips but in his hands _isn’t_ a weapon, it’s a small black bowl. Jesse doesn’t need to see what’s in it to know _what_ it is, he’s served ice cream in that same bowl countless times in the restaurant. 

Jesse breathes a mental sigh of relief, relaxes, and eases into a sly grin. “Am I not dessert enough for you?” 

Hanzo merely hums, sitting beside him. “You are the best dessert I could ever ask for,” he says, voice low and husky, and Jesse’s cock twitches. “But you do not satisfy my _sweet_ tooth.” He places a hand on Jesse’s stomach, just above his navel, looking from the bowl to Jesse’s eyes. “You are still on the clock as my nantaimori.”

“I am,” Jesse says, slowly and calmly despite balling his hands into fists. He utterly _despises_ the cold, but at this moment, with Hanzo looking smoking hot, with his head utterly _drowning_ in lust, he’d do _anything_. 

With a dangerous little smirk on his lips, Hanzo moves the bowl over Jesse’s stomach and tips it slightly. A single drip of melted ice cream lands just above his navel and he flinches. Even though he knew it was coming, that he was mentally prepared for the cold thanks to the sushi earlier, it still felt like Hanzo dumped a handful of snow onto him.

But as soon as the freezing drop hits his skin, it’s replaced with intense heat as Hanzo licks the ice cream up. His eyes flick to meet Jesse’s and he sits up, grinning. 

“Not too severe, I hope?”

“Not at all,” Jesse breathes. If Hanzo keeps this up, one drip at a time, it won’t be so bad after all. 

“Good.” 

Jesse watches in slow motion as Hanzo sets the bowl down on his stomach. It’s fucking _freezing_ and he tenses his _entire_ body, a means to stop him from shaking the bowl off him. Hanzo said it himself, Jesse is still on the clock as his nantaimori, so he has to follow the rules he was told when this crazy evening started. 

“Relax,” Hanzo says easily, scooping into the ice cream with a spoon Jesse didn’t even realise was in his hand. He has a taste of the ice cream and hums in contentment. “You may vocalise if you wish. It will not get easier from here.”

Jesse is hit with a sudden wave of dread. _It will not get easier from here_ echoes in his mind, and he can’t even _fathom_ what Hanzo means by that. 

Hanzo looks at him with a raised eyebrow, and Jesse nods, focusing on the bowl resting on him. The only thing Jesse can think is that Hanzo has the intention to eat it off his skin like the sushi downstairs. It’s something he’ll have to do quickly because it _will_ melt and it will drip onto the bed. It’s time-limited, and Jesse finds himself relaxing. 

He _should_ be able to manage that—ten minutes of intense cold while Hanzo has his fun. 

Ten minutes maximum. 

Exhaling slowly, Jesse nods again. “I’m ready.”

Hanzo chuckles. It’s a sadistic little laugh, and if Jesse weren’t so turned on, he’d be concerned. The bowl is swept up, and Hanzo holds it over his groin. Before Jesse can even process what Hanzo’s about to do, he pushes Jesse’s cock back and a drip of ice cream falls on the underside. 

Jesse _shouts_. This time, instead of immediately licking it up, Hanzo lets it dribble all the way down to his balls. He screws his eyes shut, tries to focus on his quick, shallow breaths to distract from it, but he can't, it's too much. It feels like an ice-cold knife is splitting him apart slowly.

Just as he’s about to beg Hanzo to lick it the fuck up, relief washes over him as Hanzo is right there, first sucking on his balls, then lavishing his cock. Jesse groans and grunts, the mental and physical whiplash from horny to stone-cold turned off then back again all but fries his brain. 

Hanzo sits up, smirking slyly and licking his lips. He tilts the bowl again and Jesse squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself for another drip, another punch to the gut or dick, but it doesn’t come. 

Slowly, cautiously, Jesse opens his eyes, settling on Hanzo. Hanzo shifts the bowl, leaving it hovering over his stomach for a moment, and Jesse breathes a sigh of relief, his cock is spared from more torture.

Then, Hanzo dumps the entire contents of that bowl onto his stomach. 

Jesse hisses as the ball touches his skin. No amount of mental preparation could have braced him for just how frigid it actually is. He shivers as goosebumps roll _violently_ across his body, he clenches his jaw just to make sure his teeth don’t chatter. 

The bed dips and Hanzo settles between his legs. Despite being horny as all fuck for what will _eventually_ come, it seems his dick has other plans—it's embarrassingly barely a half chub against his thigh thanks to the cold. 

Hanzo ignores it, though, pressing heated kisses from the base of his dick upwards to the ice cream. He leans in, licks against the ball, then takes a sizable bite before pulling away. He swallows, Jesse sees his Adam's Apple bob, then, with no fucking warning whatsoever, his dick engulfed in the _freezing_ pits of Hanzo’s mouth. 

Jesse _jumps_.

Pulling on the restraints instinctively, his body is _screaming_ at him to get Hanzo off. But _he doesn’t_ want to, because the image of Hanzo with his lips pressed against his groin is too fucking hot. Jesse’s entire _flaccid_ dick is in Hanzo’s mouth, but all he _wants_ is to feel the tightness of Hanzo’s throat, which is where he _would_ be if he were hard.

Hanzo applies a little suction, almost coming off him before he engulfs him again. As his mouth starts to resemble a standard temperature, Jesse _finally_ gets into it. The intensity of the cold, and the slow build-up to warm then _heated_ has made this blowjob a fuckton more enjoyable than normal. He can feel himself swelling, the head of his cock bumps against Hanzo’s cheek, and when Hanzo comes off him, he’s got a definite semi. 

“How was that?” Hanzo asks as he takes Jesse in his hand, tugging slowly.

“Intense,” Jesse breathes. Pleasure ripples through him, the heat of Hanzo's hand feels like heaven and his cock is hard again. It makes the icy cold sensation on his stomach a little more tolerable. 

That, or he is starting to go numb.

“Good intense, or bad intense?”

Well,” Jesse says with a chuckle, “I’m not gonna tell you to stop.” 

“Excellent.” Hanzo sits up, climbs off the bed to the chair where his clothes are. 

Adrenaline floods Jesse’s system as Hanzo picks up the knife, but he doesn’t unsheath it, just holds onto it as he reaches into his pants pocket. He sets everything back down again, stands over Jesse and presses something into his hand. 

Frowning, Jesse cranes his neck to get a good look at it. It’s small and thin, black, has a single button on it—

This is a remote. 

A remote for a plug. 

Jesse's eyes snap to meet Hanzo’s as he settles between his legs again. 

“A little fun for you,” Hanzo says, dipping down to take another bite of ice cream.

“Did you have this on when we were fucking earlier?”

Hanzo winks, hooking his arms around Jesse’s thighs. He opens his mouth, and once more Jesse feels the intense cold. 

“Jesus,” Jesse groans. He isn’t sure if that’s in response to the iciness radiating from his groin or the mental image of Hanzo sneakily turning on his plug while they were fucking. 

He thumbs at the button, looks down at Hanzo, and Hanzo is _staring_ at him. The plug isn’t on now, Jesse realises, and with a smirk, he presses down. 

Hanzo hums around him, his eyes flutter closed. He comes off him, then, eyes still closed as he kisses Jesse’s pelvis, all the way up to the ice cream. He sucks up the last of it, returns to Jesse’s dick, and Jesse can’t help but groan. Hanzo could keep this up for _hours_ and Jesse’s sure he’d never get used to it. 

Jesse watches as Hanzo bobs up and down, as his cock appears then disappears into his mouth. It’s a miracle that _hasn’t_ softened again, but as he enters that slow transition where cold becomes warm, he can feel the molten heat in his core.

With every moment that passes, Jesse’s body screams, positively _begs_ him to reach out, take Hanzo’s hair in a handful, push him down deeper and make him go faster. A fitting _punishment_ for the hell he just had to endure.

But since he can't, he enjoys what he can get. Which isn't very much, as Hanzo comes off him again. He sighs, Hanzo locks eyes with him as he licks every last drop of ice cream off his stomach. When Hanzo’s tongue dips into his belly button, pleasure utterly _strikes_ through him like lightning, his back arches off the bed. 

It's a damn miracle he didn't just come. 

Hanzo’s mouth returns to his cock, and Jesse moans, his eyes slide closed. As his hand tightens around the remote, he wonders what kind of plug Hanzo is wearing, how big it is. If he knows one thing about the _fearless_ Shimada Hanzo it’s that he doesn’t do things by half measures. He wouldn’t have a beginner’s plug up there, no, it’d be something big, something sizable, something that would have him _feeling_ it with every movement.

Jesse cannot help but moan as the image of Hanzo bouncing on his dick enters his mind. It’s the next logical step after this, it has to be. Hanzo’s had his fun with the ice cream, he’s wearing a plug—something he didn’t need to tell Jesse about. He was planning another round of fucking, that’s why Jesse is here in this room right now.  

Settling on Hanzo again as he wraps his hand around the base of Jesse’s cock, Jesse takes a moment to commit _this_ moment to memory. _Fuck_ , he cannot _wait_ to tell Fio that the great Shimada Hanzo, leader of the Shimada Clan, remorseless killer who is feared throughout Japan, had his mouth stuffed _full_ of his cock.

Keeping his eyes trained on Hanzo, Jesse presses the button on the remote again. Hanzo moans, muffled, he thrusts down onto the bed. Jesse cannot help but smirk at the sight of Hanzo being so desperate, so turned on that he is now _fucking_ the bed.

Hanzo’s eyes snap open, he meets Jesse’s gaze as he comes off him slowly, applying a shitton of suction that has Jesse hissing through his teeth from the oversensitivity. He sits up, straddles Jesse’s thighs, leans over to the nightstand and pulls out a bottle of lube from the drawer. 

A fire burns in Hanzo’s eyes as they _bore_ into Jesse’s. Hanzo doesn’t look away, not as he opens the cap, not as he drizzles lube onto Jesse’s dick. Jesse bites his lip, the anticipation of what comes next thrums through his veins.

Dropping the bottle onto the bed, Hanzo stands on his knees, reaches behind him, biting his lip as the plug comes into view—  

“Fuck,” Jesse breathes, seeing the size of the thing. It’s black, shaped like a cock, is at least four and a half inches in girth and seven inches in length. Hanzo had _that_ inside him _this entire time_ and _fucking fuck_ it has Jesse is sure he’s never been this turned on in his life. 

Hanzo won’t need any prep. He can just sink down on Jesse's cock given he’s not much bigger than that. 

And that is exactly what Hanzo does. He drops the toy to the floor, scoots forward, wraps a hand around the base of Jesse’s cock and rubs it against his crack. Jesse sucks in a breath through his teeth, half focused on clicking the damned button on the remote to stop the toy from vibrating while trying to _enjoy_ Hanzo’s teasing. 

When the thing _finally_ goes silent after what feels like the millionth button press, Jesse groans, opening his hand and letting the remote fall to the bed. He makes eye contact with Hanzo, then the head of his cock dips into Hanzo’s hole. Jesse moans and Hanzo grins, _grins_ as he sinks down effortlessly. Placing a steadying hand on Jesse's chest, he doesn’t even settle in Jesse’s lap, just immediately rocks his hips. 

 _Fuck_ , Hanzo feels _so_ fucking amazing. He’s not too tight, but he is warm and perfect and the intensity of the cold torture from earlier makes _this_ the best sex he’s ever had.

Hanzo, too, looks like he is _completely_ enjoying himself. His cock bounces with every thrust, he moans, hums and gasps. Jesse can't help but watch on, mesmerised. 

“Are you just going to lie there and take it?” 

Jesse snaps into the present, he feels a twinge of anger in his gut. He frowns, looks up at Hanzo who is staring back at him with an arched eyebrow. No one, not even the little _shit_ who is currently bouncing on his dick gets to _accuse_ Jesse of lying and taking it. 

Timing Hanzo’s undulations, Jesse rolls his hips to meet Hanzo with each thrust. It’s not enough, Jesse knows it, but there’s not a lot he can do, not with Hanzo bracing his entire weight on his chest, _nor_ with his hands bound. 

“Did you not say that you don’t take things lying down earlier?" Hanzo asks. "Between this evening and now, I have to say, I’m quite disappointed.”

“Fuck you,” Jesse retorts. The words might have passed his lips without him thinking them, but he does _not_ regret them. The look of surprise on Hanzo’s face feels like icing on the fucking cake. “You had me pinned.”

“Yet,” Hanzo says, smirking dangerously and lifting his hands off his chest and behind him, settling on Jesse’s thighs, “you’re not pinned now.”

Jesse picks up his pace, increases the force of each thrust. Skin slaps against skin, drowning out Hanzo’s quiet moans.

Hanzo quivers above him, he sucks in a breath. “Harder.”

Biting his lip, Jesse gives it all he’s got. He’d love to take a hold of Hanzo, roughly turn them, press him into the mattress and utterly _destroy_ him, but can’t do _shit_ with his hands tied.

Hell, even to just hold onto him, caress his skin, hold onto his hips tightly and push and pull to control the speed. He’d take that.

“ _Faster!_ ”

Jesse growls, digging his heels into the bed and lifting his knees to give himself more leverage. Hanzo moans, wrapping his hands around Jesse’s shins as he _bounces_ on top of him. He moans, _so fucking loud_ he's practically shouting, but when his eyes snap to meet Jesse’s and then narrow, Jesse knows he’s about to be barked at again. 

“Is _this_ what you call _fucking_ me?”

“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying it,” Jesse retorts, smacking his hips against Hanzo. He smirks when Hanzo moans, he bites his lip when he feels Hanzo's fingernails drag against his skin, hard enough to leave marks. “You try being tied up.”

“Excuses,” Hanzo spits. He hunches forward, one hand settles on Jesse’s shoulder, the other on his own thigh, his fingers dig into his skin. If Jesse were to guess, these _attacks_ are all for show. Acting bossy and demanding, barking orders, trying to maintain some level of control given he knows how much Jesse likes it.  

If Jesse were to guess, Hanzo’s close, closer than he'll ever admit. Hanzo wants to grab himself, to tug to completion and he’s fighting it. 

“Then untie me and I’ll show you a good time,” Jesse says. “I’ll fuck _you_ so hard _you’ll_ be the one who can’t walk straight.”

Hanzo narrows his eyes. “Just. _Fuck_. Me.” 

Jesse _yells_ , pulling on the bindings as hard as he can and giving Hanzo everything he can muster. He pushes Hanzo _up_ with each thrust, Hanzo’s cock bounces obscenely, slapping against his pelvis. Hanzo moans, louder and more desperate, the grip on his thigh tightens, his fingers dig into his skin so hard he might just bruise himself. 

Finally, Hanzo takes himself in his hand. He doesn’t pull, though, just holds himself tight and stops bouncing. All of his weight is on Jesse’s hips, and now _he_ is the one just sitting there and taking it. Jesse growls as he lifts him off the fucking bed, grinding into him as hard as he can. 

Hanzo moans, long and low one final time, and Jesse sees the moment he comes, as a bead of white pools at his slit. A gasp, and the first spurt gets so much airtime it lands across Jesse’s face. Jesse flinches, his eyes squeeze shut, his tongue darts out to get a taste of him on his lips. 

Between his taste and _feeling_ Hanzo tighten around him, Jesse is pushed over the edge. He _shouts_ , so fucking loud it surprises him, he grinds into Hanzo as hard as he can. 

Unable to hold Hanzo’s weight anymore, Jesse falls flat onto the bed with a groan as he rides out his high. His core, his wrists, the heels of his feet ache for all the strain he was putting on them, and he knows his back will be next. 

He feels Hanzo’s hands on his chest, moving upwards slowly onto his neck, and Jesse is sure this is where Hanzo will kill him. Now that round two is done, there’s nothing stopping Hanzo from squeezing the life out of him. 

Honestly, Jesse is so tired and sore to even fight back. If this is how he dies, in this post-coital bliss, then so be it. At least he's happy.

But Hanzo doesn’t squeeze, his hands instead cup Jesse's face. Jesse doesn’t bother opening his eyes, but he can feel Hanzo’s breath against his cheek. Parting his lips and lifting his head slightly, Hanzo closes the distance between them and they kiss, slow and sensual. 

Hanzo breaks off the kiss, and when Jesse feels that first lick against his cheek, he shudders, he’s sure his cock tries to twitch back to life inside Hanzo. Even though Hanzo did _exactly_ this earlier, it’s still hot as fuck— _n_ _o one_ he’s been with has been this carefree, this _blasé_ about tasting themselves.    

 _Fuck,_ Hanzo couldn’t get any hotter, and yet he keeps on topping himself. 

Mostly certain that he doesn’t have come across his eyes, Jesse opens them as Hanzo sits back up. Hanzo gives him a small smile, then unties the restraints. When he’s done, he braces himself on Jesse's chest again and lifts his hips, climbing off slowly with a groan. Jesse sucks in a breath, then it catches in his throat at the sight of his come streaking Hanzo’s inner thigh. 

Wordlessly, dragging his feet, Hanzo enters the adjoining bathroom and disappears from view. After a moment, Jesse hears the sound of rushing water from the shower.

Jesse looks down at himself and sighs. He couldn’t have _dreamed_ that this is what his evening would end up being, and despite his initial reservations, despite how much of a dick Hanzo was, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Jesse will leave Japan soon enough with one hell of a story to tell, and a few good memories to keep him going on lonely nights. 

But until then, as he looks at his red, aching wrists, as he stands and enters the bathroom, as he joins Hanzo in the shower, pinning him against the wall and kissing him with burning desire, he has the rest of the night to continue making memories. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BeanChillie) and [PillowFort!](https://www.pillowfort.social/ChillieBean) Come say hi!


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